


The singing bone

by A_M_Barnett



Category: Grimm brothers - Fandom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-02
Updated: 2020-05-02
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:34:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23960875
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/A_M_Barnett/pseuds/A_M_Barnett





	The singing bone

The singing bone

“Dear shepherd, blowing on my bone,  
Hear my song for I want you” ̶  
Gareth dropped his flute on the ground and screamed. It was the first time he was allowing himself to scream in a long time. It felt good actually; the only ones listening to his unnatural pitch were the birds and the forest animals. And even if there were any humans, they would run away upon hearing such an ominous howl. It was a win-win situation.   
His voice cracked as he coughed, gasping for air. His eyes darted back and forth, doing their best to avoid the flute. It had never talked before and Gareth had never been good at handling surprises. A lesson he had had to learn the hard way.  
Temptation finally won over fear as he glanced in the direction of the flute, his trembling hand reaching to touch it. His stumpy fingers closed around it and brought it closer, despite the warning signals his brain was giving him. Heart thumping against his chest, he picked up the instrument and checked it on all sides. A large dent had appeared, probably caused by how Gareth had thrown it on the ground – it had most likely hit a stone hidden beneath the grass. He felt a pang of guilt at how he had mistreated it, but it couldn’t surpass his trembling as a sudden realization dawned on him. The flute could speak. Gareth was going to be famous. Or rich. Or rich and famous. Both prospects dazzled him and filled his stomach with butterflies.  
In his mind, Gareth could already see the future, unfurling before his eyes; once full of uncertainty, the road before him was now cleared of obstacles, glinting in the morning sun in all its glory. It beckoned him, full of promises, encouraging him to sing once more. He raised the flute to his lips and took a deep breath, stifling the urge to giggle. I’m writing history. If grandpa could see me now… He’d cackle like a witch.  
He put his lips on the mouthpiece, trying not to hold his breath. The flute tooted gently but didn’t speak. Gareth scowled and rested it on his lap. Of course. Too good to be true. His hopes died as fast as they had appeared. Didn’t you hear? The poor aren’t allowed to hope. Good thing it was summer or his uncouth attire would leave room for the freezing kiss of the winter air. He picked the flute up again and started playing a bawdy tune, ignoring the dark thoughts which troubled him, even in his sleep. He hadn’t had a good night’s rest in years. But it was a beautiful day outside, his stomach was fuller than it had been for months and he had the whole day to himself. He shouldn’t be asking the gods for more. They didn’t like ungrateful humans.  
“Hear my song for I want you to know  
How my brothers killed me years ago“ ̶   
Gareth’s eyes bulged, but he didn’t stop playing. How could he when the voice was so vibrant even a deaf man could hear it?  
“To win a fair maiden’s hand in marriage.  
Our mother had three sons, she did,  
But two jumped on their brother  
To steal his prize, in earnest won  
And betroth a king’s daughter.”  
The boy’s voice rang clearly in the woods, echoing off the trees. Gareth’s eyes darted side-to-side as birds perched on branches, their chirps imitating the rhythm of the song. This is impossible. No magic is able to do this. No magic, no matter how dark, enchants the forest dwellers.  
“So as the boy drank with his brothers  
In celebration for the hunt  
They plotted with each other  
To kill the little runt.  
His head a haze from mead so sweet  
His eyes a blur of blue  
He did not see two faces meet   
Didn’t feel the knife strike true.”  
Gareth stopped blowing on the flute, trembling despite the hot summer air, his eyes narrowed and unfocused as he remembered the history lessons his grandfather had always insisted that he take.   
King Wolfric, the just ruler of Alysia, had married princess Emma after killing the mighty Iron Boar. The beast had slain many, driving King Wolfric’s father-in-law to such despair that he offered his hand in marriage to anyone who could slay the boar. So, if what the flute was playing was true…it meant that Wolfric wasn’t the just ruler at all. And he had murdered both his brothers in cold blood, taking the glory for himself.   
Gareth’s breath came to an abrupt halt as all the pieces of the puzzle clicked. All the rumors his father told his sons to dismiss. All the whispers making their way out of a drunk’s lips. The unexplained executions His Majesty seemed so fond of. It was all because he had something to hide. A dark secret that would ruin it all if it ever got out.  
Or it wouldn’t change a thing because he’s the king and he has a say in everything. He would execute anyone who ever dared to say anything against him, even the queen. But the queen was carrying. And the doctors said it was a boy. Gareth grinned like a madman. It was a stupid attempt. A futile plan no one could possibly be able to carry out, much less a shepherd who could barely read and write. It was doomed to fail, and it would bring his death. But for the first time in forever, Gareth felt he had a goal. That his life meant something. That his death would be noticed. It won’t make any difference for anyone. Why would the queen even agree to see me? Why would she believe such a crazy story? And even if she did what could she do about it?   
The flute seemed to stare at him impatiently, urging him to decide. It’s not the flute. The shepherd gasped as he unscrewed the mouthpiece and kissed it with more tenderness than he had ever kissed a woman. It was the bone. The pure white bone I found a week ago in a ditch near Boar’s Cave. He dropped it abruptly gagging at the thought he had kissed a dead man’s remains.   
He had kissed a dead man’s singing bone. And that bone would bring the downfall of a king.


End file.
